


You Are Real

by itsOzzie



Category: The Prom (2020), The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsOzzie/pseuds/itsOzzie
Summary: Angie comforts Emma after the fake prom.
Relationships: Emma Nolan & Angie Dickinson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	You Are Real

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deepestfathoms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/gifts).



> This is specifically Movie!Emma, but tagging it under the Sklar/Begulin/Martin version of the tag makes it easier to find the names of the characters and whatnot in AO3.
> 
> Ryan Murphy really thought if he made Emma an optimist he'd erase the angsty fanfic potential, huh? (/hj) Well, he can try, but he won't take away Emma's anxiety. She just disassociates now.

“I wanna go home,” Emma whispered to Angie as they stood there in the barren gym.

“I know,” Angie whispered back. “We’re gonna figure this out, I promise.”

Angie didn’t seem to understand how urgent this felt in Emma’s head. Curse her brain for figuring out how to hide her anxiety so she wouldn’t have to deal with everyone hating her for that too; knowing how easy it was to actually hurt her. That line of how much she could hide with a fake smile had most certainly been crossed, though, and suddenly she felt like there was a whole ton of weight surrounding her, threatening to crush her from every angle. The pressure was making her go hot and immediately she was having trouble breathing.

This was all in her head, right? Sure, everyone had planned this just to remind her she’d never be the girl they wanted, just to remind her she could never be normal in Edgewater, but her reaction to this had to be an exaggeration because she should’ve seen this coming but she had to be an optimist. And then she remembered, as her phone rang.

“Alyssa?”

It was a weird feeling, being on that phone call. It felt like the moment she said the words, she forgot what she said. But she knew she fucked up. And everything was...spinning? No, not spinning, just rushing. Going so fast she couldn’t keep up. And it was infuriating.

“Alright, this is what we’re gonna do--”

Emma exploded, finally. She blew up at Barry and those stupid fucking actors because goddammit, she was just fine at pretending not to care until they showed up. Her ears were ringing over whatever it was she said and she’d never had a worse headache in her life. She tried to get out of there, but she didn’t know how to walk in heels, let alone run, so the next thing she knew she had slipped on the asphalt, and then there was a voice from not too far behind her.

“Emma.”

She lifted her head off of the asphalt and felt her leg go warm, presumably from blood, and she’d never felt more disgusting. She’d never felt more like an alien in her own body. And there was Angie Dickinson, there to witness her downward spiral.

“I don’t want you here,” Emma screamed. 

She didn’t recognize her own voice as she heard it echo in the empty parking lot. Who was she? Was she real? She stared at her hand beneath her, and it tremored like it was beyond her control.

“You made that clear.”

“...I did,” she replied gruffly but sounded more like she’s reassuring herself. If she wants to say more it evaporates immediately.

“You can’t drive yourself home, you’ll get yourself killed.”

“How?” Emma asked with a bitter laugh, still trying to yell over her mind. “The roads are all empty. They’re all at prom. Having the night of their lives.” She recalls Barry’s words to her weakly, voice breaking.

“You're not in a good mental state.”

Emma didn't reply, breath hissing as her aching chest tried to keep up with what her body needed. She felt herself fizzle out for a moment, but she wasn't sure if she lost consciousness or just disassociated so hard that she was having trouble remembering she was actually here. Angie seemed to notice that and tried to help her sit up, but the moment she touched her there was finally a reaction. Emma felt like she was being burned alive in the spot where Angie put her hand.

“Don't touch me!” she screamed. She wanted to sound intimidating but knew it was just a terrified squeal. 

Finally, she got her face off the ground, turning to face Angie, who looked at her in shock. Emma started trying to explain herself instead of being interrogated. Control. She needed control.

“I'm not usually like this.”

“I know. It must suck, getting your hopes up.”

“Half my smiles are fake,” Emma deadpanned. Angie just looked at her curiously and so she continued. “I’ve mastered a smile that looks real. It's easier to grin and bear it than it is to let them see me hurt, so when my anxiety gets bad I just zone out.”

“Must be hard to zone out through this.”

She stared down at her palms again, with a look on her face like she just killed someone and she was staring at their blood turning brown on her skin. Finally, she admitted, “I don't know what I told her...what she told me…nothing.”

“Oh, honey,” Angie tried to comfort Emma, but now she couldn't stop herself.

“It's so scary when that happens. I just forget...everything. Sometimes I lose sight of myself. Maybe in the long run I already have lost me for real. I've been pretending to not care what they say for so long, maybe I've forgotten my real feelings, and I just...who am I anymore?”

Emma was clearly still stuck in the disassociation she was describing as she covered her ears even though it was silent out here. It had been silent in the gym, too, but she still was trying to block out sound in there, too.

“Hey,” Angie finally butted in. “You're real, Emma. And you wanna know what I know about you?”

Emma looked Angie in the eyes, finally, and nodded a little. Her baby blue eyes were blanched by the moonlight, and they turned to the color of diamonds, Angie noticed. It was mesmerizing.

“You're so brave,” Angie started with the obvious. “And so fun to be around. I've had more smiles with you than in my last year in New York.”

“Really?”

“Really, and you're kind, too. Ridiculously welcoming to this insanity. And I must say, you really do look gorgeous in that dress.”

That was when Emma stopped buying it. “Angie...I know you mean well, and you're probably not lying, but I feel so awful that it feels like you are.”

There was silence for a moment. Then a reply from Angie. “Yeah, I should've seen that coming.”

They let the silence linger for a while after that, and Angie watched as Emma came down from her panic. It was funny, almost, how subtle her anxiety was. The only way Angie had been able to tell she was in the middle of drowning in those feelings was her labored breathing. Otherwise, she'd managed to hold a conversation perfectly fine. Angie was keeping a watchful eye on her now, though, and she could see it, the way she visibly relaxed.

Finally, Emma felt safe enough to break the silence. “Can we go home now?” she whispered, voice quivering.

“Of course,” Angie said. A smile emerged on her face. “And don't tell the others, but I’ll sneak you some ice cream from the motel, and I might have some too if that's alright.”

Emma smiled a little too. It didn't hide the tears now cascading down her face, yet Angie could still tell this was genuine. 

“Isn't that gonna screw up your voice?” Emma tried to joke, and luckily Angie got it.

“Oh, you've been spending too much time with Barry.”

Somehow the promise of ice cream made this all a little bit better, even if she finally started sobbing in the concealed comfort of the backseat of her truck.


End file.
